Cat Flap

by Ian Jarvis

  ‘Sorry about shooting you.’ He grunted as the snarling white cat slammed him against the wall. Silva was older than Rex, probably a few hundred years older, and only had the use of one claw now, but terror outweighed any feelings of macho humiliation. ‘Why don’t we talk about this?’

  Rex ducked as the talons released his sweater, slashed out and gouged through the brickwork. The time for reasoned discussion was definitely past. Darting away, he made it up the steps, then fell by the elevator as claws ripped his leg and snapped the shin bone. Battling nausea and searing agony, he pulled out the silver lighter, screaming as his arm was torn and broken. He rolled, gasping and moaning, by the large hole in the floor. Something undulated at the bottom, but tears blurred his vision.

  ‘You caused me to feel pain,’ growled the white panther, seething with fury. Standing on rear legs and closing the talons of his good arm around Rex’s neck, Silva dragged the man upright and slowly crushed his windpipe. ‘No one has done that for a very long time.’

  ‘Leave him,’ shouted Amy. The panther twisted and hissed to see her taking aim with the discarded gun. ‘Let him go or...’

  ‘Fuck that!’ squawked Rex, his face blue. ‘Blow his fucking head off. Now!’

  Silva thrust him backwards and dived into the open elevator. The door closed, bullets ricocheting off the steel, but Rex didn’t see it. He was face-down in the snake pit.

  Chapter 71

  Clutching Quist’s overcoat, Watson ran up the stairs behind the bounding wolf and paused to catch his breath on the final landing. ‘I have to ask,’ he said. ‘Why do you keep ripping the doors off every time we reach a new level?’

  Quist spat the Uzi from his mouth and stood upright. ‘They’re fire doors.’ Peering through the panel to ensure the corridor was empty, he tore it from the hinges. ‘I’m allowing the hot smoke from downstairs to get through.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Watson watched as the swirling black cloud above him rushed out over the ceiling of the passage. ‘Er... why?’

  ‘To confuse the robo-sentries. They operate on movement and heat. Smoke masks movement and hot gas masks our warmth.’

  ‘Will it work?’

  ‘We’ve passed beneath three already.’

  ‘Shit! I never saw them.’

  ‘And they never saw us; that’s the idea.’

  Watson backed across the landing, watching in horror as the temperature plummeted and the monster transformed. Wolf fur and fangs fell out and crumbled to dust, expelled by sprouting human teeth and hair, the crackling lupine form twisting and shrinking back into a naked, middle-aged man.

  ‘Whooo!’ The trembling youth tossed him the overcoat. ‘That’s one hell of a party trick, Guv. What’s with the cold when you do that?’

  ‘If you really want to talk esoteric metaphysics at a time like this, the transformation leeches energy from the atmosphere.’ Quist slipped on his coat and picked up the Uzi. ‘These silver bullets should hopefully eliminate any problems we encounter. I’ll change back if absolutely necessary, but I don’t want Amy or Rex to see me.’ He stepped over the broken door. ‘One person knowing my secret is more than enough for...’ A robo-sentry swivelled, powdering the wall as he leapt back. ‘Damn! There isn’t enough smoke up here to fool its sensors. That was close.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Watson. ‘But not as close as this.’

  ‘Drop your gun,’ said Sarah. She stood on the stairs pointing a pistol. ‘Drop it now.’

  ‘Oh, hello.’ Quist casually threw down the gun. ‘We’re looking for two friends, Amy and Rex. I don’t suppose you’ve seen them?’

  Sarah chuckled. ‘I should forget them. The female is with Lucius in the penthouse and the other will be dead by now.’ She turned to Watson, the teenager freezing as their eyes locked. Quist stiffened too as she turned the hypnotic glare on him. ‘I could have shot you when your backs were turned.’ She lowered her pistol. ‘But this is more fun. Pick your gun up and put it to your friend’s head.’

  Quist bent slowly, lifted the weapon and pressed the silencer against his assistant’s temple. Watson whimpered like a puppy.

  ‘Turn and face him,’ ordered Sarah.

  Shaking and moaning louder, the youth shuffled around until the muzzle touched his sweat-soaked nose.

  ‘Very good. Now pull the trigger.’

  Quist twisted and fired, blowing the gun and three fingers from the girl’s hand. She clutched the smashed stump and doubled over in agony, her feline shriek jolting Watson from the trance.

  ‘Shit!’ he spluttered. ‘Hey, nice bluff.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Quist, ‘but your hypnosis doesn’t work on me. You’re going to take us to Amy and...’

  Sarah attacked with unbelievable speed, face changing to cat form and eyes blazing green. Sidestepping, Quist caught an arm and used the momentum to launch her into the passage where the robo-sentry greeted her with a blizzard of silver.

  ‘Fuck me!’ Watson watched her corpse disintegrate in a crimson splatter dance. ‘You say we’ve walked under three of those?’

  Quist nodded grimly as the gunfire ceased. ‘And the penthouse must be along there, past that lethal contraption.’ He grabbed the youth’s sweatshirt and ripped a strip of cloth from his midriff.

  ‘What the...’ Watson gaped in disbelief.

  ‘I need something hot.’ Igniting the fabric with his cigarette lighter, Quist tossed it high into the corridor. ‘Something hotter than me.’

  Already confused by the increasing smoke, the sentry locked onto the flames, allowing him time to shoot the small device beneath the unit.

  ‘There,’ said Quist. ‘That was almost certainly the sensor.’

  ‘Almost certainly?’ stammered Watson.

  ‘Come on. We’ll soon find out.’

  ***

  Groaning, Rex felt his head to ensure it was still there. His left arm and lower right leg were lacerated and broken, but a scorching numbness had set in which temporarily killed most of the pain. Anyway, he was alive. The cat’s claws seemed to have missed his arteries and things could certainly have been much worse. He turned and saw that things were much worse.

  ‘Oh fuck!’

  Two king cobras reared in the gravel four feet away, facial hoods flaring and black eyes staring spitefully. It’s tricky for snakes to look cute, but Kali and Shiva weren’t even trying.

  Amy arrived at the pit edge. ‘Snakes,’ she croaked. ‘Cobras.’

  ‘Well spotted.’ Rex blinked away streaming perspiration. ‘Er, I’d rather not move, so why don’t you shoot them and we’ll talk natural history later?’

  The girl took careful aim and pulled the trigger.

  Snack!

  ‘Oh no!’ whined Rex. ‘Please, not again.’

  ‘I must have emptied the gun when I shot at Silva.’ She knelt trembling by the pit. ‘Oh God, what do we do?’

  ‘I don’t have many options.’

  The sides were only five feet high. Even with fractures, Rex could make that, and especially with his scaly incentive. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he eased himself back from the snakes and clambered slowly and painfully onto his good leg.

  ‘Hey, this is going to be okay,’ he whispered, taking Amy’s hands. ‘They won’t attack provided I take it nice and easy like...’

  The first strike hit him in the thigh and the second in the buttock. After the third he stopped counting. Amy heaved the screaming man out of the pit as Quist burst through the door with gun raised.

  ‘There’s only Rex and Amy in here,’ shouted the detective. He raced across the penthouse to the upper level. ‘Close the doors behind you to keep out the smoke.’

  Watson followed him up the steps and saw Silva’s pets. ‘Rex has been bitten,’ he gasped. ‘Do something, Guv!’

  ‘Do someth
ing?’ Quist shot him a disbelieving look. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I dunno. Suck out the poison or something.’

  ‘Watson, those are cobras, he has multiple bites, and this isn’t an old cowboy movie.’ He quickly examined the groaning man. ‘Oh! He’s been bitten in the femoral artery.’

  ‘Is that bad?’ Watson glanced at the sobbing Amy, pretty sure of the answer.

  ‘Strand and Stapleton?’ Quist gripped Amy’s shoulders. ‘Where are they? There was supposed to be a meeting of the Ubasteri?’

  ‘They’re all dead or gone,’ she stammered, pointing. ‘That door is a lift. Silva used it to escape. He said it goes down past the fire.’

  ‘It’s like tequila,’ said Rex, grinning weakly at her. ‘I can’t feel my legs.’

  Quist ran to the elevator. ‘Does this keypad operate it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Wiping her eyes, Amy pushed him aside and stabbed four numbers. ‘I watched him code it in.’

  ‘I can’t see,’ whimpered Rex. He groped for Amy, found Watson’s hand and squeezed. ‘I know this sounds stupid, but I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘Er, right.’ Watson returned the squeeze. ‘Don’t mention it, mate.’

  Rex wailed at the pain as the detective lifted his armpits and dragged him into the lift.

  ‘Get in, Watson,’ said Quist. ‘I don’t know where it goes, but let’s find out before the fire kills the electrics.’

  Amy hit the button and the elevator descended fast.

  ‘Oh shit! Look at this, Guv.’ Watson cringed as Rex’s gurgling face began to blacken, his body going into spasm. ‘Is there an antidote for cobra venom?’

  The detective raised an eyebrow.

  Amy sobbed again. ‘Even if there is, we don’t have time to find a hospital.’ She knelt, supporting his head. ‘We don’t have time for anything.’

  The lift opened into a basement with several tunnels running off.

  Quist made up his mind. ‘There is one antidote,’ he muttered. ‘The only one under the circumstances.’

  Amy heard crackling bone, felt the freezing drop in temperature and felt fur brush her face. She turned from the dying man, gaped at the huge wolf crouching beside her and fainted as it buried its teeth in Rex’s arm.

  ‘Nice going, Guv,’ said Watson. ‘Now we have two to carry.’

  Chapter 72

  Strand’s Lamborghini sped north up the M6, weaving through the morning traffic. ‘So you don’t need the data disc?’ he asked. ‘The samples will suffice?’

  ‘Of course.’ Fran held up the Solstice tub. ‘We can produce the cream and droplets as soon as we find a chemist with lab equipment.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Killing the lights, Strand lowered the black glass and smiled at the pink blush of dawn on the eastern snow clouds. ‘A beautiful morning.’ He sucked in the crisp rush of air. ‘The best I’ve seen in centuries. All things considered, it didn’t turn out too badly, did it?’

  ‘Silva is still alive,’ said Fran. ‘We might have been better leaving the country than heading to your Scottish place.’

  ‘Why? The Committee and his security team are all dead and his fortress will be rubble by now. With the Solstice, we can take over and reshape the Elite.’

  ‘I now know never to underestimate him.’ She heard the siren behind and turned to see blue lights. ‘How fast are we travelling?’

  Chuckling, Strand pulled onto the shoulder at the Kendal turn-off. By the time the police car had stopped and the two officers had marched to the Lamborghini, he was leaning on the bonnet lighting a cigarette. ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.

  ‘Problem?’ snarled the Sergeant. ‘Do you have any idea how fast you were going?’

  ‘Yes.’ Strand stared at them both. ‘A hundred-and-twenty. I wasn’t speeding.’

  ‘No.’ The Constable’s eyes glazed. ‘No, you weren’t.’

  ‘I don’t know why we... ‘ The Sergeant blinked. ‘For some reason we thought...’

  ‘You’re wasting our time,’ said Strand. ‘We’re in a hurry.’

  ‘They need a lesson,’ said Fran, climbing out. She kissed the Constable’s cheek, took his cap and set it on her head. ‘How about driving the wrong way along the carriageway and ramming into the first truck they meet after reaching eighty?’

  ‘Why not?’ Strand tapped his cigarette ash on the Sergeant’s tunic. ‘Return to your car and...’ The words ended as his outstretched hand took on the scarlet appearance of tandoori chicken. Turning incredulously, he peered at the clouds where the morning sun had begun to burn through. ‘What the hell...’ His eyes widened in terror as smoking fingers agonisingly shrivelled. ‘No. How can...’

  ‘The sunblock isn’t working.’ Fran dived back into the Lamborghini, hissing as solar rays blistered her face. Blackened flesh fell sizzling from her jaw. ‘Get inside behind the glass.’

  Scrabbling for the door handle with the dripping mess that had been a hand, Strand collapsed whining into the seat, face liquefying and eyes bursting to spill down bubbling cheeks. His feline screech jolted the police from their trance. The Sergeant grabbed the door to prevent it closing and sunlight flooded the car interior. The driver melted to a thick sludge, and beside him, impossibly, a huge black cat writhed and screeched as it too dissolved.

  The Constable had just recovered from one form of mesmerism, but this was another. He was unable to wrench his eyes from the nightmare, not even to glance at his shoes, as his superior covered them in a gush of half-digested breakfast.

  ***

  The Saab raced up the M6 shoulder to the front of the tailback and drew up behind a line of police cars. Katie Bradstreet and Tariq Aslam jumped out and were met by a uniformed Inspector.

  ‘I’m told you have two bodies?’ snapped Katie. ‘One is a Doctor Francesca Stapleton?’

  ‘According to the lads who stopped the car, there were two.’ The ashen officer pointed to a large tent and handed over a woman’s bag. ‘We er, think it’s two bodies.’

  ‘You think? Is the car burnt?’

  ‘You’d better take a look.’

  ‘Yes, this is Stapleton’s.’ Aslam searched the bag as he followed his superior. ‘The credit cards and other identification belong to her.’

  Lifting the flap of the shelter, Katie walked around the Lamborghini to the open door and pulled on latex gloves. Crimson ash covered the leather and filled the footwells. A blue silk suit lay mixed with the dust on the driver’s seat, and lifting the jacket arm, she gulped as a Cartier watch and more ash gushed from the cuff. The woman turned vacantly to her Sergeant.

  ‘Just like Lisa Mirren and Carl Dreyer,’ whispered Aslam.

  Gingerly searching, Katie found a wallet. ‘Matthew Strand,’ she read. ‘Who’s that?’ She lifted a plastic tub from the coat pocket, and gently blew red dust from the label.

  SOLSTICE - BATCH 0043

  Katie turned from the powdered corpses and leant against the car, dazed. Clichés have always littered police dialogue: the D.A’s been on my back all morning. It’s all there; count it. He knows too much. I asked you all here because I’m ready to name the killer. Although unaware, the bewildered woman muttered one of the top twenty.

  ‘Fuck me, Tariq,’ said Katie. ‘How do I put this in my report?’

  Chapter 73

  ‘When exactly?’ Speaking softly, Amy leant across the pub table, although it was unlikely that anyone would overhear. I Believe In Father Christmas tinkled from the inn speakers, mingling with the boisterous chatter of Sunday lunchtime clientele. ‘When did you swap Stapleton’s sunblock for the normal cream you bought at the chemist?’

  ‘When I broke into the Sunnyvale clinic and found her bag,’ said Quist. ‘I just had time to quickly change the label before they caught me. I ducked behind a couch and hid her prototype tub underneath
before they searched me.’

  Quist and Watson sat opposite Rex and Amy in the King’s Arms. An attractive building of timber and stone, the powdering of snow transformed the York riverside tavern into a chocolate box scene. All four were exhausted after a night spent scouring and bleaching the detective’s cottage. Constable Gregson’s body now lay in Stapleton’s Bishopthorpe house, along with the other incriminating evidence. A semi-credible story had also been agreed upon for the authorities that didn’t involve the supernatural.

  Watson slurped his lager. ‘So Strand and Stapleton are dead, but Silva’s still alive.’ He turned to Rex. ‘Speaking of being alive, you’re very quiet.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it.’ Rex massaged his tired eyes. ‘I had no say in the matter. You just did it.’

  ‘You were in no state to say anything,’ said Quist.

  ‘You’d be dead, if not for Bernard,’ pointed out Amy. ‘I know his snakebite antidote was rather extreme, but...’

  ‘He turned me into a monster.’ Rex glanced about irately, ensuring no one was listening. ‘Some creature from a late-night movie.’

  ‘Is that such a bad thing?’ Watson shook his head, bemused. ‘You don’t think it’s kind of cool?’

  Rex hit him with the sort of look Saint Peter would have received at the Pearly Gates, had he asked: Yes, Mister Kennedy, but apart from that, how did you enjoy your Dallas trip? ‘I’ve been turned into some paranormal Rottweiler.’ His eyes widened at a sudden realisation. ‘Some overgrown, supernatural dog and my name’s Rex.’

  ‘Well, how about that?’ said Watson. ‘Strand was going to turn you into a supernatural cat and the boss turned you into a supernatural dog.’

  Quist’s mouth curled into a lopsided grin. ‘The police station is on Fulford Road. One more drink and then I suggest we get it over with. Everything should be fine provided we stick to the agreed stories.’